


Smile Because You Want To

by Dogsocks



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Daichi is kind of a rich kid but not really, M/M, POV Alternating, Tags Are Hard, i'm too tired for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 06:21:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10679499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dogsocks/pseuds/Dogsocks
Summary: “So, why do you stick around if it makes you miserable?"He doesn't really know why he still lets himself be dragged to these events when he loathes them so much. Everything about them is dreadful, the self absorbed people, the way they talk, the fake smile he has to hide behind like everyone else in the room does. Not to mention the endless stress, the anxiety, the pressure. And maybe he sticks around for his father's sake, because that's what's expected of him, but he knows this isn't where his future is."Because I'm supposed to, I guess," he finally says."Yeah but what do you want, Sawamura?""I don't know."





	Smile Because You Want To

**Author's Note:**

> WOW I haven't written or posted anything in a while. Whoops. I have a multichapter fic that I should be working on that I've been putting off (which is still coming btw, but anyways), but instead, I decided to finish this random one shot that I wrote the majority of a while ago. I actually like the way this came out so I hope you enjoy! (The end is unedited for the moment so I apologize for any typos.) Also, I know it's kind of long but I didn't want to break it into chapters because I like how it reads as one. 
> 
> (Side note: there's kind of an anxiety attack sort of thing in this so if that's not the kind of thing you want to be reading, you've been warned. It's kind of hard to skip because it's intertwined in different parts and also it's kind of part of the main plot so you may just want to skip out on this one if you don't want to read that. I hope you read the notes.)

Daichi watches as his sister glides gracefully about the large room, her beautiful dress flowing around her as she weaves through the crowd. With her hair pulled up so neatly and her makeup done with a careful simplicity, she doesn't necessarily look older than he feels she usually does, but more adult. That's how she always seems at these events, with an air of confidence about her like she could be talking to anyone in the world and she would still know exactly what to say without a second thought. 

She swiftly navigates the room, their mother's jewelry glittering across her skin as it does only on these such occasions while she bounces from place to place, always seeming to have a new destination and never seeming to get there. She doesn't hesitate to entertain  
a conversation with someone new, strangers and acquaintances alike.

Daichi still doesn't understand how she does it, the way she easily slips in and out of different conversations, returning pleasantries and answering questions without missing a beat. Every time she manages to get away, setting off into motion again, someone else stops her and she never fails to greet them with a dazzling smile and polite words. It amazes him how effortlessly she's able to move through these events and constantly interact with these overconfident, excessively smug people in their luxurious clothing, and all with a smile so disarming you'd think it was sincere.

Of course, Daichi knows Manami when they're not forced to these events for their father's sake. He knows that she thinks half the people she speaks to are stuck up, narcissistic, and sometimes just plain rude. She just nods along even if she disagrees because that's what they both have to do. They're constantly walking on eggshells because there's no real way to know what's the wrong thing to say. They can't embarrass their father by revealing to these people that they actually have an opinion of their own. So, you just close your mouth, bite your tongue, and smile like you care. 

But it's hard sometimes. The way they talk and act like they’re superior to the people around them, including whoever they're talking to, is often hard to smile through, especially when they say something with a lighthearted laugh that really makes you want to throw a drink in their face. The worst part is that Daichi can tell none of these people actually care about him. Whether they approach him to discuss business of some kind, or his father, or just out of curiosity, he knows how to identify a fake smile by now. He knows when someone is looking down on him. He knows an insult when he hears it.

He does feel bad for Manami though. He might get some of the harder questions to answer because, unfortunately, his father expects him to take the company someday despite his known opposition to the idea. Because of that he's expected to somehow know everything about anything that someone might ask him about, to somehow be the perfect image for his father's reputation, to actually be prepared, if that's possible. 

But, as a beautiful woman all dressed up to match the elegance of the people around her, Manami has different problems. A lot of the people who are interested in talking to his sister aren't even the people who matter, it's their oblivious kids that are clearly blinded by their overly opulent lifestyle and have probably been told they're the best a few too many times for their egos to handle. They don't care about what she actually has to say, just how she looks in her dress, and Daichi can't count the number of times he's had to stop himself from saying some less polite things to someone who only wants to stare down her shirt. 

They're probably just forced to these events like Manami and himself, only they're under the impression that having access to their father's credit card somehow makes them important. Daichi thanks his mother in his head for saving the two of them from growing up with such a mentality, despite the privileges they have. As uncomfortable as it is to be the black sheep, he would hate to actually feel like he fits in with any of these people.

Which, is why these things are so hard to be at. Strangers come up to him, some know who he is and some have to ask. They ask him questions about himself, his father, the company, and so he holds the conversation with a polite smile and some semblance of interest in the topic, like he's expected to.

He can put on a nice face just like his sister, but you can only hold a fake smile for so long. Somehow she manages to keep up her lively act up all night, though he knows it really is more exhausting than she makes it look. Sometimes he wishes he fit in if only to make these nights go by faster and loosen the anxiety and the stress that claws at him until the moment they're finally home.

It's not always that bad though, and obviously not every person with money acts this way. Unfortunately though, it is true of most of the ones he's associated with. And again, he always tends to be pessimistic because he doesn't want to be here in general. Not every person he has to talk to is an egotistical businessman or his spoiled son. There are a few people here that are actually decent to talk to, that allow him to trade in his charming grin for a real smile and let his shoulders relax, if only for a moment. The problem with people like that, is that somehow they're always the busiest, having a way with people that everyone wants to experience for some of their night. They sweep in to save you from the stiff conversation and the anxiety of constantly being in the hot seat, only to be swept away by someone else all too soon.

Daichi is actually glad that he's been left alone for a while, but as is expected, his blissful silence by himself on the outskirts of the room is short lived. An older man he doesn't know and a slightly younger woman he can only assume is his wife walk up to him and introduce themselves. 

He doesn't remember the name for longer than a moment, just remembers them as Mr. and Mrs. Important. Daichi smiles, of course, remembers his manners and does all the right things, like he should. His posture is confident, even as he discreetly adjusts the suit that never seems to fit quite right. Apparently this man owns a company, Daichi missed what exactly they do, but he knows his father somehow. He's too focused on trying not to show how little he wants to be here to actually gather much information.

The conversation is easy enough. They're both polite and steer clear of any touchy or controversial subjects, thankfully, but for some reason it still feels like tip toeing through a minefield. They don't know enough about Daichi or his father to give him any really hard questions, just enough to make him wish for the end of this discussion, just enough to make him uncomfortable under this man's expectant gaze.

"Matsumoto!" a loud and thankfully familiar voice booms cheerfully over the roaring white noise of endless chatter around them. "It's been awhile, how are you?" Daichi looks to the source of the voice over Matsumoto's shoulder and is relieved to see Takahashi approaching them. 

He's not only involved greatly with his father's company, but he's a friend at this point, and a relief to see among the sea of strangers. Despite the age difference, Takahashi being a little older than his father, ever since Daichi was young, he's always been one of the people who he actually enjoys seeing at these events. 

He's real and easy and there's not one person in this room who would be upset at having to talk with him. He's also always understood that Daichi hates these things, had always been the one trying to talk to the miserable kid in the corner, cheer him up. Over the years as Daichi grew up, they actually became friends, though they rarely see each other outside of business related matters.

"Takahashi, it's good to see you," the man, apparently Matsumoto, replies easily. 

They take a short moment to talk. Though the tone is light and friendly, Daichi knows that this is still Takahashi's business voice despite the loud and carefree nature of it. That's just him. Daichi lets out a long breath, relieved to have their attention off him.

"Sorry to cut things short, but do you mind if I steal him for a few minutes?" Takahashi asks, suddenly regaining his attention as he gestures to Daichi.

"Oh, not at all, we were just finishing up," he says, going on about how he has to find someone with a name Daichi doesn't bother to remember and talk about something or another. He doesn't really care, he's just relieved. They say their brief goodbyes and nice to meet you's before he's off into the crowd and Takahashi is settling into an easier posture beside Daichi.

"Thank you," Daichi sighs, happy to use his natural voice and let the smile slide off his face.

"Anytime, kid," he replies with a grin, his own tone losing the airy politeness that reveals the easy warmth of his normal voice. "So, what did Matsumoto want with you anyways?"

"I don't even remember." Daichi answers honestly with a slight laugh in his voice and a small grin that feels like his own. Takahashi laughs at that too, a light chuckle that bubbles out of him.

"God, these stupid things don't get any better to come to, do they?"

"Not even a little."

"It'd be much less of a headache if they all talked..." Takahashi trails off, twisting his hand in the air as he looks for the words. "Less," he concludes bluntly with a snap of his fingers and another laugh. He laughs so often, sometimes booming and loud, sometimes just a pleasant undertone to his words. It's like it's as easy to him as breathing, even in less than ideal situations. It's nice. "Even better than that, not at all," he continues with a chuckle. "It's like that quote."

"Hmm?" Daichi hums with interest as they both just stare out at the crowd, eyes skimming aimlessly across the sea of well tailored suits and glittering jewelry. 

"'Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and to remove all doubt.'"

Daichi allows a smile onto his face. "I'll have to remember that one."

"It could be worse," Daichi starts again after a comfortable silence.

"How so?"

"At least you don't have to worry about people looking down your shirt all night on top of it all," Daichi says with a venomous pleasantness as his eyes catch some idiot who doesn't even look old enough to be drinking the champagne he's swinging around as he shamelessly checks out his sister. She's aware, Daichi can tell, but she's too polite to actually do any of the things to him that Daichi would really like to right now. 

It only makes it worse that the same guy had talked to him in passing earlier, well more like passive aggressively insulted him earlier, so Daichi isn't too fond of him to begin with. He's practically seething when Takahashi glances back over at him.

"I have a lot of respect for your sister, dealing with people like that all night," he says, looking back to her. "I could never do it. If I were her he'd already be missing some teeth," he jokes, trying to lighten the mood some.

"Sometimes I really wish I were allowed to be as rude to these people as they are to me."

"Well hold on a second, I think you could be rude to that kid and get away with it," Takahashi reasons with an exaggerated consideration, shifting his weight to one hip and talking animatedly with his hands. "For one, he can't be that bright. If you call him an opulent, discourteous narcissist he might just short circuit," His tone is light an jovial and Daichi can't find it in him to suppress his own chuckle. It feels nice, loosens the anger tightening his chest. He gets why Takahashi laughs all the time, just laughs his way through these things. It feels much better than being bitter. 

"No I'm serious," Takahashi continues, despite his own snickering. "I know his father, um, what the hell is his name?" He snaps as he tries to remember. "Yokoyama! Okay, so the point is that his father is way less important than yours, so who cares what his irrelevant, pervert of a son thinks anyways?" Daichi laughs again, smiling and shaking his head at how unfiltered Takahashi is when there's no one else around. Obviously it's rude, but Daichi can't find it in him to care anymore. He's just trying to cheer Daichi up, and in that way he realizes nothing has changed. Nothing changes.

"And," Takahashi continues, "He looks like he's about five years younger than you anyways. Though, he has some guts going for your sister, I'll give him that. She has bigger biceps than him." 

They just laugh for a moment and Daichi feels a little bit of relief from the stress of being here, but like he said, the people who are nice to talk to are the people who everyone wants to talk to. Someone comes over, looking for Takahashi, and of course he's polite and allows them to pull him somewhere else, and Daichi is equally polite and assures him it's fine, despite the tightening in his chest at the realization that only a few minutes had passed and hours remain. He gives Daichi an apologetic look, saying he'll try to find him later before he disappears into the crowd.

His attention is dragged to a slight commotion a few feet from him where a tall waiter with dark hair and a tray of champagne balanced on his hand is being practically shoved out of the way by a man in a hurry for the door. Daichi watches as the tray goes down, golden liquid drenching the waiter as the tray clatters to the ground and glass breaks, though the man in the nice suit is the one up in arms about the drop that got on his shoe.

***

There was no time to stop or even slow down by the time the man was in sight. Even if he had time to think about it, there was no stopping the physical motion of his body across the room. It feels like slow motion when the man rams into Kuroo, as he watches helplessly as the tray flies from his hand. Champagne goes all down his torso and he sees a few of the glasses burst into shards on the ground. It's only a second, but it feels endless.

"I'm so sorry, sir. This is my fault," Kuroo says quickly like he's supposed to, dropping almost right after the tray does to carefully pick up glass and put it on the empty platter as quickly as he can. He doesn't even look up at the man. He knows he'll just get mad, because this was not, in fact, his fault at all. That self-righteous asshole pretty much mistook him for the door. But it's fine.

"Well of course it's your fault! You should really look where you're going with that," the man scolds him. "And it got on my shoes!" 

Kuroo bites his lip, but keeps his work voice on. "I'm terribly sorry, sir." He wants to yell, maybe about the champagne that's currently making quick work of soaking through his whole uniform, vest, shirt, and undershirt. But, he can't afford to pull something like that, especially on a day like today. He tries to take a deep breath, to let it go.

"Do you know how expensive these are?" the man scoffs. "Of course, you wouldn't. You're just a waiter," he almost chuckles, cruelly, and Kuroo's hands clench involuntarily as he bites his tongue to keep his job, though who knows if it'll matter now anyways. He really wants to punch this guy in the mouth, if he's honest, but he wants the rent money more. So he has to be polite. This man is a guest after all. An arrogant, discourteous, hypocritical guest that he'd love to see wearing the same shade of champagne as him. 

Kuroo looks back to the glass and sees the blood coming from his hand, one single drop falling onto the red carpet and coloring the fibers a darker hue. Fantastic, now he can add staining the carpet to the list of things that he's done wrong today. "And now I'm going to be late!" the man gripes, as if Kuroo has the time or patience to care about such a thing, while he shoves past him, kicking a glass across the floor where it spins to a stop. How mature.

"My apologies," Kuroo grits out as he frantically picks up small shards, nicking his fingers. He can't find it in him to care today, though later he'll probably be regretting it. The man is gone now, the draft from the open door hitting Kuroo's back. He feels a little relief without having to spout useless apologies, but people's disapproving stares are still burning holes in his skin, their hushed whispering is not discreet, his hand is dripping thin trails of blood down his arm to soak into his crisp white shirt sleeves, and the rest of his shirt is soaked and sticking to his skin. He really just wants to get out of this room as swiftly as humanly possible. He doesn't want to be here anymore, looking like an idiot in front of all these people who look down on him enough as is.

He looks up in an effort to locate the glasses that rolled away, or were kicked by careless people passing by. When he does, he finds himself face to face with a soft pair of warm, brown eyes. Crouching right across from him is the owner of the eyes and the small yet genuine smile that accompanies them. He's young, probably not far from Kuroo in age and it surprises him the sincerity of the apologetic look on his face.

It's only after a second that Kuroo realizes he has an armful of empty champagne glasses, presumably the ones that rolled away. He's simultaneously amazed that someone is actually trying to help him rather than avoid eye contact, and surprised that only one person in this corner of the room is willing to do so. He's learned to expect as much from the kind of people at these events.

"Sorry, he's an asshole," the guy says as he places the glasses on the tray, taking Kuroo a bit by surprise with his bluntness and the fact that he's not blaming Kuroo. "I just met him earlier, actually. It wasn't any more enjoyable than this," he continues with a chuckle. Kuroo really wants to agree, laugh maybe, but he's at work. This is a guest, a guest who shouldn't have to clean up this mess.

"Thank you, but I can deal with this. You don't have to do that," Kuroo says, taking the rest of the glasses as quickly as he can and offering the man a polite smile. "I appreciate the gesture."

"I know I don't have to," he says, picking up glass carefully with a handkerchief to protect his hand and placing it with just as much care back on the tray. "But I should. It's common courtesy, contrary to popular belief, apparently," he adds, glancing around with a surprisingly genuine distaste.

"You don't need to do that, you could cut yourself. Please, it's fine," Kuroo says quickly, afraid of him actually cutting himself and Kuroo getting blamed for being reckless, or for making a guest clean up a mess he had caused himself, or something equally as untrue. He appreciates the sentiment. Truly, it's refreshing in a way, but it's a shame that he can't simply accept it without fear of getting himself in trouble. He glances around quickly at the thought.

"You're one to talk," the man says, gesturing towards Kuroo's long forgotten, blood streaked hand. That's unfortunate.

"Well, either way, I'm here to work and you're here to enjoy your night," Kuroo reasons. The guy laughs, low and pleasant although it has a sardonic ring to it. Kuroo glances up curiously for a moment before making quick work of getting the last few noticeable shards from the carpet. For someone at an event like this, this man sure is surprising, for lack of a better word.

"This has been one of the only enjoyable parts of my night, I assure you," he says with a light tone, though the look in his eyes as they both stand suggests that he's telling the truth. He's certainly good at hiding his discontent, but then again, he must have to be. "Do you need anymore help?" he asks, and Kuroo almost thinks he sounds hopeful under his polite tone. He must want to be here just as little as Kuroo. 

"No, you've done enough already, thank you" Kuroo assures him as he picks up the tray, not bothering to carry the platter of broken glass with his usual elegance. "Either way, guests aren't allowed in the kitchen," he adds, hoping he'll catch on and realize Kuroo's job may be at stake, especially today. He looks around nervously again, not wanting to just hurry away, but also not wanting to stay here any longer.

It appears that he might protest, but he seems to understand something. "Right, of course," he says politely with a smile that feels different than before, though Kuroo can't say why. "Here, you might want to clean up your hand a bit," he says, shaking out the handkerchief and offering it to him. 

"You don't need to do that, it'll stain," Kuroo says eyeing the pristine fabric warily. "And I don't know if I'd be able to get it back to you," he explains, wondering if he cares about Kuroo's well being, or just the stares he's already getting as his shirt cuff stains red.

"You can keep it, it's not like I need it. This is the first time I've ever even used it," he protests lightly. "And I'm quite aware that their stares can burn through a human skull in minutes," he jokes quietly with a grin. Kuroo decides at this point it's easier to just take it so he can get out of this room, so he does with a polite word of thanks, wiping the scarlet liquid from his skin with haste before holding it tight in his fist over the source of the blood. "Well, I won't bother you anymore," the man says, and with a polite bow he's receding gracefully back into the crowd. Kuroo can't help but think that he looked reluctant to return, and he can't blame him.

Kuroo scurries away hastily, only looking back once at the suit disappearing behind a group of people. What an interesting person to meet in such an unfortunate way. 

And now, he has to pray for the mercy of his boss.

***

As always when he's beginning to relax even just a little, Daichi doesn't make it far before someone pulls him aside. This time it's the exact situation he's been trying adamantly to avoid all night, despite his knowledge of its inevitability.

"Ah, speak of the devil, there he is! I was just telling a few of my associates about you, why don't you join us for a bit?" his father says as he steers Daichi towards a small group of men and woman nearby. He can think of a lot of reasons why not, but he doesn't voice them, just smiles. 

There's a brief moment filled with stiff greetings and introductions before he's thrown into the middle of a conversation that had started long before he arrived. He feels immediately out of place among these people as they chat effortlessly, occasionally addressing him. He tries his best, since his father is here, to throw in a comment when he feels confident enough in his words to do so, but it's difficult to decide if it's acceptable to say before the conversation moves along and it becomes irrelevant. 

Every time he tries to talk he feels all of their eyes on him, unwavering and ready to tear him apart at the slightest imperfection. It's like he's holding his breath until they move right along conversing and he realizes that he must have said something correct and he can finally let out that breath until the next time. It just constantly feels like he's being watched, judged, even when not a single person's gaze is on him. 

The conversation isn't that difficult to partake in. These people aren't nearly as obnoxious as some he's met before, and for a moment he's relieved at that. He's not sure how long it'll last, absentmindedly checking his watch and wishing he could make the minutes go by faster.

***

Kuroo holds the best professional smile and the most confident posture he can manage as he crosses the room as quickly and calmly as possible without breaking into a run. He clutches the platter full of broken glass tight in his hands with the stained cuff of his sleeve hidden underneath. He tilts the tray so nothing falls off while he avoids the stares of everyone around him.

The second he's pushed through the staff door, the forced air of professionalism gives way to everything he's been forced to keep in. Anger, embarrassment, dread for the repercussions of this. He wants to slam his head against the wall, but instead he adjusts his grip on the tray so he can yank frustratedly on his hair.

"God dammit," he huffs angrily under his breath, then again a little bit louder with a few more curses thrown in for fun because this is great. He's soaked, bleeding, and he has to waltz into the kitchen with this tray of broken glass and just hope that Harada has mercy. He's screwed up so many things today that he's actually concerned about keeping his job by this point. He might as well call Kenma now and ask if he'll take a roommate. 

It would be so incredibly ridiculous to lose his job now after the day he's been through. He's suffered through a seemingly endless day of small catastrophes to this point, with little more than an hour left in his shift. To lose it all now because some insolent excuse for a human being forgot that you can't just walk through other people would be infuriating. Infuriating, but not surprising.

"Yikes, what happened to you?" a voice asks from down the hall, accompanied by the sharp echo of brisk footsteps. Kuroo looks over to see Yamamoto walking towards him from the kitchen with a platter of his own that's filled to the edges with neatly organized glasses of water. 

"Oh nothing much. Some guy just figured it would be quicker to walk through me instead of around me," Kuroo replies with a false sweetness to his tone that does nothing to mask the venom. "God this day can't get much worse, can it?" he mutters mostly to himself with a dry chuckle that tastes bitter in his mouth.

"But in case this wasn't enough," he adds eventually, gesturing to his soaked clothing and the blood stained shirt, "I'm probably about to lose my job, so that’s fucking wonderful."

"Don't say that, Harada will understand. It wasn't even your fault," Yamamoto tries to reassure him. "Besides, it's not like you're the first person to ever drop a tray. I'm pretty sure we have a whole case of spare glasses around here somewhere anyways." 

"Yeah, but he's already on his last nerve today, with me especially," Kuroo explains with a sigh. "If there were a contest for the worst day of my life, today would definitely be a finalist. Everything you can possibly imagine has gone wrong, and at this point I really wouldn't be surprised if he fired me."

"Kuroo, that's not gonna happen," Yamamoto says, though it's not like he has any way of actually knowing that. "Look, everyone has off days sometimes but you're one of his best workers the rest of the time and Harada knows that. Everyone knows that. You work your ass off, he's not gonna fire you because of one bad day." Despite the traces of truth in the statement, Kuroo can't help but worry.

"Well I hope not, but you don't know that," Kuroo says, getting distracted momentarily as his eyes follow another waiter that walks by on their way to the kitchen. "If I do lose my job, I'm screwed. It's not like I'll be able to get another job in time to pay my rent, and--"

"Kuroo," Yamamoto interrupts, opening his mouth to speak and then pausing with an abrupt glance at the door as yet another waiter pushes through it. "I gotta go before someone notices that I'm not where I'm supposed to be, and you too, but you have to stop thinking about it so much."

With that, he walks towards the main room, acquiring an elegant posture and a graceful gait somewhere in the space just before the door. Then he's gone with a brief burst of noise as the door opens and Kuroo is alone again in the off-putting quiet of the hallway. 

He only stands there for a moment before he sets off for the kitchen with some kind of new determination. Standing in the hallway and letting his pessimistic thoughts fester in his mind does him no good. Even if he doesn't get in a mess of trouble for this, he would definitely get in trouble for hiding in the hallway during his shift.

He pushes through the doors into the commotion of the kitchen. It's always in stark contrast to the carefree elegance of the main room and the dull quiet of the hallway where waiters effortlessly transition from one environment to the other. It's loud and busy, full of voices and sounds, and movement that never stops until the day is over. 

He tries his best to cling to his usual confidence even as the stares of his coworkers follow him in his disheveled state across the room. A lot of them are too busy with their own tasks to notice yet another waiter passing by. Some look at him with something akin to sympathy, or maybe pity, while others glance nervously between him and Harada where he stands across the room, rushing from one place to another as he tries to retain some semblance of control over this chaos. Then, of course, there are one or two people who grin to themselves at the thought of Kuroo getting fired. He's sure they wouldn't be smiling if they had a serving tray shoved gingerly down their throats, but that's besides the point.

He's brought out of this train of thought when Harada turns around from having some kind of argument with a very rattled Ishida and makes eye contact with Kuroo, then his uniform, then finally with the tray in his hands. The look in his eyes could kill a small animal and it begs for someone to assure him that he's seeing things. Kuroo can tell he's stressed beyond his normal limits and he hates being the barer of bad news, but there's no other option.

"Please, for the love of god, tell me I'm dreaming," Harada says calmly with his eyes shut tight and a hand on the bridge of his nose. Ishida catches a glimpse of Kuroo on his hasty path to the door and offers him a genuinely apologetic look after having already been victim to Harada's mood. 

"What did you do?" he snaps impatiently as Kuroo comes to a halt in front of him, trying not to shrink under his venomous glare.

"I didn't do anything. Somebody crashed into me," he tries to explain quickly. "He was in a hurry to get out the door. There wasn't even time for me to stop if I had tried."

"Did you say any of that?" he interrupts sharply with a panicked disbelief coming into his expression.

"No! No, of course not," Kuroo assures him hastily. "I apologized and everything like we're supposed to, and I cleaned it up as quickly as I could," he says, remembering the man who had helped him and his sweet smile. 

Harada stops him, continuing with a hand held up and a sigh. "Were any patrons harmed in any way?"

"No, everyone was fine and all the champagne is on me or the carpet, but nothing could be done about the carpet at the time. All of the glass is cleaned up though," he says as he fidgets with the handkerchief, still clasped in his hand. Every answer just leads to more questions and it's killing him, standing here waiting for some sort of a decision.

It's then that Harada notices his injured hand and Kuroo hides the handkerchief in his fist to avoid further questioning. "What is that from? Are you injured?"

"It's just a cut."

"Please tell me you didn't get blood on anything," Harada pleads almost desperately and Kuroo can't tell if he's more concerned about cleaning the stains or the safety regulations he'd have to worry about.

"I got one drop on the carpet, but nothing that anyone will even be able to see unless they're looking for it," Kuroo explains as he yearns for this conversation to end so he can get away from the poorly masked stares of every person within earshot and out of his cold, sticky uniform. Harada is silent for a long time and it's excruciating.

"Alright," he sighs like he's considering how to proceed and Kuroo is pretty sure his heart has stopped beating in anticipation. "Well for starters, throw the glasses away and take the tray to be washed, and don't get anywhere near the kitchen tools or the food with the broken glass or your injured hand," he warns. "We have new glasses packed away in the storage room, but I'm not paying for you to fix another mistake today so I expect you to replace the tray on your break time, not on your shift. And you're coming in early on Monday to clean the carpet."

Kuroo lets out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding at the words, his shoulders slumping in relief. He's not excited to miss his last break or to wake up at four in the morning on a Monday, but it's far better than the alternative. He can't really find words so he just reminds himself to nod dutifully, overwhelmed by the thought that he still has a job.

"You go on break in ten minutes anyways," Harada continues in his typical no nonsense professional manner rather than the frustrated mess he was before. "So just go now. You need to clean up your hand before you get back to work. There's a first aid kit in the storage room too, as well as a few spare uniforms. There aren't many sizes, so you'll have to make due with what you find for now."

He directs a calculating glance at Kuroo's hand again before continuing. "Your vest and pants will be fine, but the shirt will need to be replaced. I'll have to order you a new one but it probably won't come in until next week. I know it wasn't your fault, so I won't make you cover the cost this time around," he concludes with a hint of sympathy under his stiff tone. Kuroo always forgets how much of a softie Harada is.

"Thank you so much," Kuroo says finally, relieved that this conversation is over and he came out of it with his job and at least a sliver of his dignity. "I'll get on that," he adds as he starts off towards the trash, allowing a small smile onto his face for just a moment at the disbelieving looks he gets from those few people who were hoping he'd leave here for good.

He dumps out the glass in the trash and brings the tray over to the stack of other dishes waiting to be washed by the diligent hands currently at work. Yaku chuckles from where he's scrubbing a pot, not even bothering to look up at Kuroo.

"I don't know how you survived that," he says with a little shake of his head. "You're lucky Harada likes you most of the time."

"I've still got an hour left, lets see how long that lasts," Kuroo sighs, already feeling exhausted as he starts on his list of tasks. This is going to be a long hour.

***

Daichi knew he could only avoid the topic of taking over the company for so long, and he was naive to hope that he would be released from the conversation before it was addressed. Despite that, it still takes him a bit by surprise when suddenly they're talking about him. Shame on him for being stupid enough to let his guard down even a minuscule amount.

"Well you certainly must be excited about that, considering you'll be the one to take over the company someday," a woman in blue says matter of factly, suddenly addressing him specifically. He didn't even catch what he's supposed to be excited about in the chaos of trying to keep up with as much of this conversation as possible.

He chokes on his words for a minute, his mind racing to decide how to proceed from here. He's used to just deflecting questions like these with a polite smile or just agreeing with a nod so they can move on. It's a reflex by now, but he's tired of it. He really wants to just say that he doesn't want to take the company, that it's one of the least appealing visions of a future for himself, so whatever she's talking about is surely as irrelevant to him as the rest of this talk has been. 

But, his father, while aware of that fact, seems convinced that with enough time and by dragging him to enough business related events that he loathes being at, Daichi will change his mind on the matter. Or come to his damn senses, as his father so kindly puts it.

But, he doesn't think his father has told any of these people yet that his embarrassingly incompetent son is heavily considering the option of not taking the company he's worked so hard for, because that would be ridiculous, wouldn't it? How stupid would you have to be to pass up an opportunity like that? The Sawamuras are some of the most important people here, and Daichi has an open door to the top if he just takes it.

But is that really worth it in the end? Do all of the advantages make up for the fact that he would be miserable every day he had to go to work, have to deal with these insufferable people by choice all the time? He would never be able to escape the judgmental glares, the fake smiles, the fake people behind those smiles, the stiff, suffocating clothing and the even stiffer conversation. There would never be an easy discussion, only minefields to navigate blindly. 

He always lies and says he's not sure what he's doing yet, to put off the acceptance of the disappointing truth, but he knows he could never live with that. No amount of time will make him more like his father or Manami. This won’t ever get easier, and the thought of this stress never ending, of never having another moment to just breathe, is absolutely terrifying. 

Suddenly he feels like he doesn't fit in his suit at all, or this situation, or even his skin. His tie seems too tight all of a sudden and his chest tightens uncomfortably with every second that passes, his lungs trying dutifully to accommodate for the lack of oxygen. He tries to adjust the sleeves of his jacket, and reminds himself to actually respond, though while he was thinking, several of them have just been talking for him about how he must feel on this matter, whatever it is. They're all wrong, and their confidence is more irritating than admirable.

He tries to take a quick steadying breath, but it just ends up shaky and weak. He’s having trouble forming words and every second that passes makes him feel like he’s running out of time, like it’s all slipping away too fast. He needs to say something, god, he needs to say it. His brain quickly calculates the most polite words to use as he steels himself for the likely repercussions of what he's about to do as several pairs of expectant eyes wait patiently for him to make a mistake. 

"Well," he begins tentatively, trying to keep some semblance of confidence in his voice as he wilts internally. Luckily the posture and the body language is reflexive at this point. "I haven't actually--"

"Well you must know about the incident last week with our competitors," an older woman in green interrupts casually before he can even finish his sentence, talking animatedly with her hands. "That's certainly something to consider, right?" 

Daichi doesn't even know what she's talking about, which leaves his mind desperately backtracking and suddenly at a loss for words to supply to his mouth. He can feel his breathing pick up as his lungs are crushed further by the weight of the atmosphere around him while his heart tries to escape the confines of his rib cage. All the while, a senseless chattering in his head won’t stop reminding him that time is running out faster now. It isn’t, it never was, but a panic rises steadily in him at the thought that it is.

He wants to get out. Out of this conversation he can't completely follow, out of this circle of people he'll never be able to relate to or impress, out of this crowded room of strangers and noise, out of this suit that's almost as constricting as the air in here. 

But he doesn't do any of that. He stays, and he tries, he really does. He tries to take a deep breath and continue what he was saying so he can excuse himself and never come back again. He won't have to waste any more of these people's time and he'll let them down before their impossible expectations can get any higher. He tries to take a deep breath, but the air won’t go in right and he tries again until words finally come out.

"I'm not exactly--"

"Don't you think that's important?" an impatient woman, the one in the blue dress again, interrupts him hastily and he has to refrain from tearing his hair out. Her stare makes him want to disappear and the increasing need to get these words out of his mouth is suffocating him. He will never live up to these people's standards and he wants to scream it at the top of his lungs, but instead he takes another shaky excuse for a breath and tries to focus as a clock ticks faster in his head.

He'd normally look for his mother's reassuring glance, but she must still be off somewhere talking to someone else. Daichi had seen her earlier on with a few people and he's even more on edge knowing that she isn't here to save him if this gets bad. His father certainly won't save him, just his reputation.

He chances a look at his father, who's looking back at him with patience and maybe even pride, though underneath Daichi can see the warning in his eyes. He knows what Daichi has been trying to say and he doesn't want to have to explain away his son's rash decision, to tell them he just needs time. He wants to boast and brag, and it makes Daichi sad because he knows he can’t give him that.

Daichi doesn't want to disappoint him, it was never his intention. He knows he pales in comparison to Manami when it comes to this and it hurts sometimes knowing that he can never be what he's expected to be. It'd be so much simpler if he didn't feel this way at all, but he can't keep doing this for much longer. 

He'll never live up to his father's vision for him, he'll never be what he wanted, and sometimes he really wishes to be the son he'd planned for. He's considered taking the company just for the sake of doing what he's expected to and making his father proud. But he can't be anything other than himself, time won't change that. Time won't make the people easier to talk to, won't make the clothes fit better, won't make the work any different. Nothing changes.

"Yes," Daichi finally answers, though he still doesn't know what he's agreeing with, "But I'm not exactly decided--"

And that's all it takes. Suddenly he's bombarded with questions and comments, voices talking over voices, some angry, some absolutely dumbfounded.

_"Why would you ever pass up something like that?"_

_"It's such an amazing opportunity!"_

_"Do you even know what you're saying?"_

_"Who are you to refuse such a privilege?"_

_"You're too young to be making such a hasty decision."_

_"Don't you know how hard your family has worked to get this far?"_

_"What could possibly be a better option for your future?"_

_“You’ll change your mind with time.”_

It all happens at once and it's too much. He can barely hear one person's opinion over the others. He's suddenly aware of the deafening white noise around him, the useless words being thrown at him getting lost in it all, though he can still identify his father gracefully trying to regain control of the situation. 

Sounds over sounds over sounds. Glasses clinking, fake laughter, footsteps, fabric, jewelry, voices, voices, _voices_. Over it all he can still hear his strained breathing, his heart hammering in his ears. All the while, it's like the air is slowly draining from the room and it's almost dizzying.

He needs to get out.

"Excuse me," he manages to somehow force from his throat as he pushes away from the group and into the crowd. He doesn't listen or look back to see how they react because he doesn't care. 

His head is spinning as he pushes past bodies with polite words and small gestures and he has absolutely no idea where he's headed. He can't leave, but he can't stay here for another second. A few people try to stop him for conversations and he denies them as kindly as he can manage, though he's not even thinking fast enough to offer a glance in their direction. 

When he gets to the edge of the room, a split second passes where he realizes he's hit a dead end before he catches sight of a door opening into a hallway and he heads in that direction without a single thought. 

The door says staff only, but at the moment, all that means to Daichi is that no one will try to follow him and he can't possibly run into anyone attending this event beyond those doors. He tries his best not to look suspicious because getting caught snooping around for a place to hide definitely won't help his situation. He slows down marginally as he makes his way along the thinner edge of the crowd, trying to look like he has somewhere to be rather than like he's fleeing. 

A waitress pushes through the door with a professional smile and a tray of little sandwiches balanced in her hand like it's an extension of her body. She doesn't even glance at Daichi as he strolls past the door. 

He looks past the threshold as the door swings back and forth, finding only an invitingly vacant hallway beyond. He does one quick sweep of the room with his eyes, but thankfully no one here cares enough about him to see him or notice the way he slips through as the door closes.

As it shuts behind him, he's struck by how quiet it is. It's like night and day, with only indecipherable, muffled sounds making it past the door. The near silence only proves to emphasize how unsteady his breathing has become. He tries to take a deep breath but he barely gets half a lungful of air before he realizes that he's standing in the middle of a hallway he's not supposed to be in where a waiter is likely to come in from either side at any moment.

He hadn't really considered what his plan was beyond this point, and it's only now, as he hurries down the hall, that it dawns on him how little he thought through this purely impulsive and rather idiotic decision. 

He sees a door beginning to open a ways off down the hall and he practically dives into the nearest door, grateful that it's unlocked and hopeful that he's not throwing himself into an even worse situation, though it's not like he has time to consider this.

He doesn't know where he is at all, thrown into pitch black as soon as the door closes. At least he didn't wander into another event hall or some other occupied room. He leans on the door, trying to listen and hoping that whoever is in the hallway didn't see the door close or will be too busy to investigate it if they had. He doesn't move a single muscle as he listens to the approaching footsteps and he has half a mind to worry if they'll hear his heartbeat.

It feels like an eternity before the footsteps pass by without stopping and Daichi can let out his breath. 

He doesn't have to search for the light switch, seeing as it's currently digging into his shoulder. He flicks it on and is relieved to find that he's in some kind of small storage room, and it's indeed vacant. On one side of the space there are boxes packed neatly into shelves with labels that describe the contents. On the other, there are more shelves with things like cleaning products and what he can only assume are uniforms stacked just as neatly. 

He makes his way to the far wall, sliding down it to sit on the floor beside a small sink that juts out of the wall. He rests his head in his hands and tries breathe properly and maybe regain some amount of his sanity before somebody inevitably comes looking for him.

***

Kuroo starts down the hallway to the storage closet, really looking forward to finally getting out of his wet uniform, already in the process of freeing himself from the vest. As he approaches, he notices the light is on, visible just barely from underneath the door. He expects it to be Kageyama being sent to get something for the kitchen or Kobayashi trying to hide for as long as he can manage with the excuse of retrieving something from storage. What he doesn't expect is to find a random man sitting in a rather disheveled state on the floor against the far wall.

He's even more surprised when the man looks up upon his arrival and he realizes that by some odd coincidence this is the same man from earlier tonight whose handkerchief is still in Kuroo's hand as he stands there staring at him in shock. 

"What are you doing here--"

"I'm sorry, I’m sorry, I know I'm not supposed to be here," he interrupts before Kuroo can even finish saying the word completely. "I just needed a break, I needed to get out of that room for a second. I couldn’t breathe in there anymore. I'll leave now, don't worry, I don't want to get you in trouble or something because of me," he continues quickly, tripping over his words as he stands up. “Just give me like a second to-- to… I don’t even know.”

He seems so drastically different from the person that he was not even ten minutes ago. Earlier, he had been confident, holding himself with an elegance that Kuroo could tell was nothing new for him. He could also tell that he didn't want to be here, of course, but this is something else entirely.

Without other eyes on him, his mask has faded away, revealing the effect that trying to keep that mask up all night has had on him. He's completely distraught, practically shaking as he hastily fixes the wrinkle in his shirt and buttons his suit back up with nimble fingers that work diligently despite how unsteady they seem. His breathing is bordering on panicked as he straightens out his sleeves and Kuroo is almost worried that he's going to pass out.

"Woah, hold on a second," Kuroo says, holding out a hand and not moving out of his path to the door. He knows he really shouldn't allow this. Patrons aren't supposed to be back here, it's a rule they're all expected to enforce. He could be trying to steal from them or something equally as troublesome for Kuroo if he were to get caught, though he has a hard time believing that would be the case. "Just relax," Kuroo continues, trying to will himself to do the same. This is risky, especially today, but this guy seems like he’s on the border of an anxiety attack if he isn’t there already. 

"No, it's fine. I should go. I don't want to be a bother and they're probably already looking for me anyways," he continues, trying to make for the door.

Kuroo stops him with a steady hand on his shoulder as he tries to pass. "Just sit down, it's fine," he assures him.

"But--"

"I said it's fine," Kuroo interrupts, the protest dying on the man's tongue under Kuroo's steady gaze. "You can hang out in here for a little bit if you need to. Just breathe, okay?" Kuroo looks at him expectantly and he doesn't reply for a long time, seeming to consider several things before he nods slowly with a shaky breath. 

Kuroo nods back before scanning the room until his eyes land on the stool in the corner. He pulls it out and places it near the far wall. "Here, this is probably a little better than the floor."

"Thank you," he says as he takes a seat, sounding genuinely grateful. "Are you sure this is okay?"

Truthfully, Kuroo is a little worried. He's pretty sure the chance he was given is his last one and he doesn't want to think about what will happen if he gets caught breaking the rules for some random stranger. At the same time, he feels like he owes him something.

***

"Don't worry about it You helped me out earlier, consider this my thank you," the waiter says with his back to Daichi as he makes his way to the shelf by the sink in search of something, tossing his soaked vest onto the side of the sink along the way. "Besides, people rarely ever come in here anyways. The odds of someone seeing you are slim, and the odds of someone that would actually rat me out coming in here are even slimmer," he continues as he pulls a first aid kit off the shelf. It sounds like he's saying it more for himself than for Daichi and he can't blame him.

He would feel awful if he got him in trouble and he wouldn't hesitate to leave now or take the blame if they were to get caught, but he is immensely grateful to be able to stay, if only for another minute or two. He feels a tiny amount of the pressure ease and his mind isn't spinning quite so fast. He can talk without worrying if he's saying the right thing and he can let the strained smile slide off his face, let his shoulders relax.

"I never caught your name," the waiter pipes up from the sink he's bent over where he has the first aid kit opened up and has started to take things out. "I'm Kuroo, by the way. Kuroo Tetsurou." 

"Sawamura Daichi," he replies as he watches, Kuroo apparently, while he begins to clean the wounds on his hand with an admirable determination.

"You hate it, don't you?" he asks suddenly, taking Daichi a bit by surprise with his bluntness. He glances over briefly before returning his steady focus to the task at hand. "All of it."

Daichi doesn't need to ask what he's referring too, it's quite obvious. He stares, dumbfounded for a moment by the way in which this stranger was able to effortlessly analyze him in the two brief exchanges they've had in the short time that they've known each other at all. He summarized the majority of his dilemma it in eight simple words. He hates it. He really does. 

"Yeah, I guess I do," he states simply as he watches Kuroo put the first aid kit back in place and begin to search the small stack of neatly folded shirts next to it that appear to be part of the waiter's uniforms. He huffs out a sigh as he reaches the bottom of the stack and pulls out a shirt that appears to be a little too large for his slim frame. He sets it aside and digs through a box until he finds a white t-shirt that he deems good enough.

"I hate using these,” he mutters to himself regarding the worn out shirt. “So, why do you stick around if it makes you miserable?" He asks, addressing Daichi again as he unbuttons the stained shirt he has on and peels the translucent fabric from his skin with a grimace.

Daichi considers this for a moment and his unfocused eyes lazily trace the swift motions of Kuroo's body as he finally frees himself of the wet shirt and the undershirt beneath. He watches the muscles of his back and shoulders shift as he throws the wet clothing on the sink with the vest and starts to change into the dry t-shirt and the over sized uniform.

He doesn't really know why he still lets himself be dragged to these events when he loathes them so much. Everything about them is dreadful, the self absorbed people, the way they talk, the fake smile he has to hide behind like everyone else in the room does. Not to mention the endless stress, the anxiety, the pressure. And maybe he sticks around for his father's sake, because that's what's expected of him, but he knows this isn't where his future is. 

"Because I'm supposed to, I guess," he finally says as Kuroo tries to make the best of the ill fitting shirt.

"Yeah but what do you want, Sawamura?" he asks as he finds a vest to complete his uniform. He doesn't understand how someone who doesn't know him at all is the one asking him the only questions he's ever wanted to hear, but he can't think of the words to answer. 

"I don't know," Daichi answers without a second thought.

Kuroo seems to consider this, leveling Daichi with a soft yet calculating gaze that makes him a little restless. He continues to fix his uniform to the best of his ability in silence, transferring his name tag from the dirty vest to the new one. He adjusts the clothing, smoothing it as near to perfection as he can get, acquiring a slightly more professional posture as he crosses to the other side of the room and scans the boxes.

"My shift ends in an hour," he states plainly with his back still to Daichi as he finds the box he was apparently looking for. He starts to open it but his hands still and Daichi doesn't know what to make of it, the atmosphere in the room suddenly changing to something Daichi can't quite identify. It's something almost solemn. "If I come back here after my shift ends, will you still be here?"

"Yes," Daichi answers without hesitation, surprising even himself a small amount. He doesn't really know what he's saying. People will be looking for him by then, he has to get back and inevitably face the consequences of his words from earlier. All that means is more unanswerable questions and judgmental opinions that people seem to think have more validity on the matter than his own. He can't wait around here for an hour for a reason he doesn't even know and a person he barely knows, as much as he finds that he wants to. He has responsibilities that he's already avoiding.

But before he can even consider backtracking, Kuroo nods, picks up the box, and swiftly exits the room leaving Daichi alone again to decide who he's going to leave disappointed.

***

Kuroo finishes unpacking the last glass from the box and places it neatly on the tray in front of him before leaving it on the counter to be filled and taking different platter of waters that's already waiting to be served.

He balances it gracefully on a shoulder and starts to make his way to the door when a conversation in the kitchen stops him in his tracks. 

"Yeah, I saw, we're almost out," someone shouts over the commotion of the lively space, about what Kuroo has no clue.

"We have more in storage when we run out," Kageyama chimes in across the kitchen to whoever made the first comment. "I was in there yesterday and I know for sure we have a whole case of both."

Kuroo's heart nearly stops beating as he makes a sharp right in desperate search of Bokuto. He finds him relatively close to the door, leaning over the stove where he's cooking some kind of meat. Bokuto always looks so at home in the kitchen, moving from place to place and around the other chefs with an elegance you could mistake for a dance. He absolutely thrives in the chaos of it all.

"Bokuto," Kuroo snaps quietly, trying to get his attention as quickly and discreetly as he can manage. 

"Kuroo!" Bokuto says happily, glancing up before flipping the sizzling food with a practiced ease. "I see you've decided to start wearing the champagne-free uniforms," he teases.

"Wow, hilarious," Kuroo comments dryly. "Anyways, I need your help but I have to get out of here before I get myself in anymore trouble today. Are you listening, because I seriously only have time to explain this to you once and it's important," Kuroo says, Bokuto noticing his serious tone and nodding dutifully with all his previous joking nowhere to be found.

"Okay, bottom line, I'm letting somebody stay in the storage room. I'll explain that later," Kuroo says quickly before Bokuto has time to voice the question that was obviously on his tongue. He shuts his mouth, though his eyebrows are raised in interest, and Kuroo keeps going. "I can't let anyone find him in there because if earlier didn’t lose me my job yet, this definitely will. And this is a really fucking dumb idea to begin with, I’m aware, but whatever it’s too late now,” Kuroo says in one huge breath, confident that Bokuto caught every detail of his rapid rambling.

“The point is,” he continues abruptly as he tries to remember what he actually has to say, “I need you to help me pull of this idiotic plan and be the one to go to the storage room if anyone needs something in there because I really don’t need anyone ratting me out to Harada, especially the assholes who want me gone. And I know you hate storage runs, but it's just until the end of my shift which is in less than an hour. I promise I'll find some way to pay you back, but I need you to make sure no one but you goes in there until then, alright? Because your buddy is a big, dumb idiot whose job is on the line, okay?”

Bokuto lets out a little sigh but he finally nods in agreement. "Consider it done, but you owe me for this, Tetsu."

Kuroo lets out a sigh of relief and gives Bokuto an awkward one armed hug, trying not to spill anything. "Thanks Bo, you're the best."

"I know, I know, I'm a wonderful human being and a blessing to be friends with. Now get out of here before someone catches you," he laughs before looking back to the cooking food and shouting out to the entire kitchen. "Wait, what do we need?"

"Toothpicks and skewers!" Kuroo hears somebody shout back as he turns on his heel and heads for the door.

"Alright, I'm gonna go get them! I'm sweating my ass off over this grill," he adds to avoid any questions involving his usual aversion to being the one to do storage room trips, let alone volunteering. "Kags, watch my food!"

Kuroo can't help the smile that creeps onto his lips.

 

It feels like the longest shift he's ever experienced. Every minute seems to take twice as long. Each glance at the clock seems to slow it down further, and he can't stop thinking about Sawamura, wondering if he'll actually be waiting or if he'll find a vacant room when he returns. He hadn't seen him while he was circulating the event hall, but it's a huge space and it's dense with people.

He wouldn't really be surprised if he didn't stay, considering the circumstances. He doesn't know Kuroo at all, he has other places to be and people who must be looking for him, and Kuroo hadn't even mentioned why he wanted him to wait. He wasn’t entirely sure himself, it was just an impulse. He felt like he could help somehow in a way, at least offer him an escape even if he doesn't take it. He has no plan. Maybe whether Sawamura stays or not will be what determines how Kuroo ultimately decides to proceed with this, but the more he thinks about it the more he realizes that he has no reason to stay.

Kuroo can't say why, but he feels like he can relate to Sawamura somehow, though he can't quite place the exact reason. They clearly live different lives, have different problems, but he just feels like someone that Kuroo needs to talk to. He wants to talk to him and Sawamura seemed like the kind of guy who could really use someone to talk to, to open up to about whatever he's been keeping bottled up behind that beautiful fake smile. 

Kuroo just has this strange gut instinct that wants to help him, to keep that distressed look from before off of his face. There’s this sense that he'll be able to do that in some way, though maybe that's a vain assumption. He doesn’t know Sawamura, what he’s going through. Maybe he wants to. Either way, a part of him really hopes that he'll get the chance to try. 

By the time he's actually putting his last tray in the stack of dishes and retrieving his things from the break room, he's barely able to keep himself from breaking into a run. It’s not even entirely a need to see him but just a curiosity to know if he would really stay just because he asked him to, if he would really take a chance on Kuroo. 

He hesitates for a moment in front of the door before opening it, not sure if he’s more nervous for Sawamura to still be there or to find an empty room. Regardless, he finds that he’s relieved to see Sawamura still inside, waiting patiently on the same stool with his coat folded up in his lap. He looks calmer than before, more like the first time they met tonight. Kuroo can't keep the smile from finding its place on his face.

"I didn't think you'd actually wait," he admits as Sawamura stands.

"I said yes, didn't I?" And he smiles that amazing, real smile of his.

***

“So, do you wanna get out of here for a while?” Kuroo asks with a certain vulnerability hidden somewhere under his nonchalance.

“Yeah,” Daichi finds himself accepting the offer without really thinking. He doesn’t know why the words come out so easily. Of course he doesn’t want to be here but he just said yes to leaving an important event he’s supposed to attend with a stranger he met a little over an hour ago. He shouldn’t trust this person, shouldn’t leave where he’s supposed to be with him. It’s completely senseless, but for some reason he trusts Kuroo. It’s just something about him. 

He shouldn’t even be considering this, but something in him is glad to just do something stupid. He wants so badly to be rid of this stress, this anxiety, this crushing pressure to be something he’s not and never will be. He just wants it gone, if only for a little while, just one night. For just one single night he’d like to be able to actually breathe again. And maybe this is his only chance. He doesn't know why, but talking to Kuroo tonight was the only thing that seemed to relieve that crushing pressure. It made him feel like an actual human being again and as stupid as he is to be considering this, how can anyone blame him for wanting that back? Just for a little while, he wants that back.

Daichi follows Kuroo out of the storage room and into the long silent hallway, away from the door to the event all. He's so glad to get out, away from that sea of fake smiles and empty words. He wants it so much, but there’s a sickening heaviness inside of him as he gets further from the commotion, from the mess he left behind that he’ll have to deal with eventually, from his responsibilities. He can't just walk away.

Kuroo stops when he notices the sound of Daichi’s footsteps has stopped, but Daichi doesn’t see Kuroo watching him stand there in the middle of the hallway. He’s too busy staring at the door to the event hall, stuck firmly in place by a feeling that he can only describe as guilt, for lack of a better term.

As much as he wants to, he can’t just run away from this. He just can’t, that’s how it is. He doesn’t have room to be reckless. He has a mess to sort out, tasks to attend to, people to talk to whether he finds it enjoyable or not. It doesn’t matter what he wants, there are just some things that are required of him and he knows that. He can’t abandon it all on whim, even for just one night. That’s a luxury he can’t afford. Not to mention people are probably already wondering where he’s gone by now.

“You don’t have to,” Kuroo says before Daichi can even voice what’s in his head. He turns to see Kuroo looking at him with a small apologetic smile and genuine eyes. “I understand, you have responsibilities here. I don’t want to get you in any trouble because of me,” he continues, trying to make his smile more reassuring. “You gotta do what you gotta do I guess. I don’t blame you.”

Daichi looks between him and the door. Kuroo just gave him a way out, quick and easy. He's letting him make the choice that must, but for some reason he doesn't have the strength to move in either direction, anchored to the spot with an increasing heaviness in his chest that he can’t get rid of. He has to stay, he has to, but something in his mind is screaming for him not to let Kuroo go.

 

_“So why do you stick around if it makes you miserable?”_

 

_“Because I’m supposed to.”_

 

_“Yeah, but what do you want, Sawamura?”_

 

“I don’t want this,” Daichi says finally, his soft words sounding like a scream cutting through the thick silence. “I don’t want to be here, I never have, not now, and not ever again. I hate it, I really do. I don't think I've ever said that out loud before, but I hate it. I’ll never be like these people. I’ll never be what anyone wants or expects me of me, and I _know_ that. I don't even want to be, as much as I'd love to make my father happy," he says, trying to keep his voice steady as he realizes that he's never admitted any of this out loud to anyone, that this is the first time these words are leaving his mouth and god, it feels so good. "I’ll never be happy doing this and time won’t change that, even if I wanted it to. I can barely do this for any longer today without losing my mind, let alone for the rest of my life. I try to suck it up, I really do, but there's only so much I can take. The stress of it is killing me, it's absolutely suffocating,” he finishes with a wavering breath, feeling an enormous weight stop trying to crush the life out of him as the last of the words finally leave him. 

He's not even talking to anyone that can do anything about any of this. Kuroo is a complete stranger who knows little to nothing about Daichi, and odds are he doesn't even care that much about his problems. He has his own things to worry about and he probably doesn't even understand the significance of some of the words he just said. But for some reason, despite all that he still feels almost overwhelmed with the feeling of finally telling somebody the complete truth. He was almost unable to stop talking once he started, but something always stops him. There’s always something.

“But I can’t just leave," he says, the words feeling heavy in his mouth and cold in the silence. He's suddenly more aware of that strange feeling still lingering in his chest, keeping him stuck to the floor. "As much as I want to , I just can’t. I’m sorry,” he continues, looking away from Kuroo’s honest eyes to the tiled floor. “I have things to take care of here and that’s all there is to it.” He sighs, wishing that damn feeling would leave with the words, but it doesn’t. This was the only decision he ever could have made, he knows that. There was never a choice, but he can’t help the growing sense that he’s doing something wrong.

Kuroo nods, turning slowly on his heel and Daichi starts to put his suit jacket back on. He wants nothing more than to stop Kuroo, but what more is there to say? There’s nothing else to be done about it. This is what he’s supposed to do.

 

 _“Because I’m supposed to.”_

 

“You sound like your damn father,” a voice echoes from down the hall. They both turn to the source of the comment and there’s Takahashi standing by the door, looking at Daichi with his usual kind smile as he shakes his head and starts walking towards him. "You act too much like him lately, I wish you'd start acting more like Daichi."

“What are you doing here?” Daichi asks after a second when his mind can provide no better words. 

“Well, I’ve been looking for you since a little while after you pulled your vanishing act,” he says, making Daichi feel a hint of guilt for leaving. “Ya know, you always loved to hide when you were overwhelmed as a kid, and I was always the only one who could ever find you when you’d run off. I’m kind of proud that I’m still the first one your mother looks for when you’re missing after all these years,” he continues. "But nothing changes around here, does it?"

“Sorry,” Daichi says, for some reason feeling the need to apologize for something, he doesn’t even know what. “Anyways, I was just about to head back,” he concludes quickly with a sigh, choosing to ignore the rest for now. He quickly straightens his jacket and tries to mentally prepare himself for the crowd again. Just a few more hours.

“No you’re not,” Takahashi says quickly in a light tone that still leaves little room for argument.

“What?”

“Go,” he says softly with a tender smile. His gaze shifts past Daichi and he turns to see Kuroo still frozen in place, watching them from his spot further down the hallway like he’s not sure whether he should be waiting or leaving. Daichi turns back to Takahashi, confusion and worry mixing in his expression.

“But, what about--”

“But nothing,” Takahashi cuts him off. “You think too much, Daichi. And you’re far too young to be this damn old already. Live a little, kid. You have your whole life to worry like this, don’t bother with it now. I'll deal with your father, now get out of here.”

Daichi doesn’t even know what to say, what to do. He still feels like he shouldn’t leave, he already accepted the fact that he can't, but he doesn’t think Takahashi will take no for an answer. He stands there hesitating, feeling that heaviness in his chest churn uncomfortably as he considers his options. 

"Daichi," Takahashi says softly, but firmly enough to tear him from his train of thought. "Go." 

He doesn't know what it is about that time. Maybe it's the way he says it, or maybe its the caring, almost pleading look in his eyes as he does. Maybe it's just his brain finally slowing down enough to catch up to what's actually happening. And then it finally hits him. 

He can leave.

The heaviness that was suffocating him suddenly dissipates and he launches himself at Takahashi, crushing him in a tight hug.

“Thank you,” he says softly, and he means it. He really does.

“No problem, kid,” he chuckles warmly. “Now get out of here, you need it.”

And with that, he turns to see Kuroo again, still waiting in the hallway with a stupid grin plastered on his face that spreads warmth through Daichi’s chest just at the sight of it. He catches up to him and they both walk down the hall towards the exit. The farther they get, the more he realizes that he's actually leaving. It's hard to believe that this is actually happening. He never could've even imagined this earlier tonight.

“So, where to?” Kuroo asks. “You have anywhere in mind?”

“Anywhere,” Daichi says with a smile creeping onto his face. A real, happy smile that feels like it finally belongs there. “Anywhere but here.”

They open the doors, cool air washing over them as the blurred sounds of the city surround them and it's then that it finally seems real. He can barely comprehend the feeling coursing through him as he takes in the sensations of the night, following Kuroo through the parking lot to a small beat up car. 

“I think I have an idea,” Kuroo says as he opens the door and they both slide into the front seats of the vehicle. Daichi finally takes off that goddamn suit jacket for the night, taking off the tie that’s been suffocating him and undoing the top button on his dress shirt. He throws it somewhere in the back with his coat, clicking his seat belt into place and rolling down the window to let in the night.

“Alright,” Kuroo says, throwing his seat belt on and bringing the car to life with a quick flick of his wrist. The engine hums softly and the radio fills the air with sound. “One ticket to anywhere.”

It feels so good to breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this random little (well, it's not really little) thing! I hope you liked it!


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